


tommy's party

by pheebalouu



Series: oneshots!!! [2]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/F, M/M, cannot think of any tagz Lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pheebalouu/pseuds/pheebalouu
Summary: 6/10/2020- basically newt nd thomas r exes and thomas is holding a party.... from there u know ...- based off the song 'tommy's party' by peach pit- SOMA!!!! INSPIRED ME 2 WRITE THIS........- newt and teresa gay Besties ....- mainly newtmas but some brenderesa thrown in there for good ol sake- TW!!! for alcohol , vomit , smoking
Relationships: Brenda/Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt/Thomas (Maze Runner), Teresa Agnes/Brenda (Maze Runner)
Series: oneshots!!! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944046
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	tommy's party

_I'm sorry, it's just not working. ___

____

Newt had back pressed against the wall, eyes scanning the room. He had been invited to a party, although, it wasn't just any party - it was Thomas's. Thomas, who held these dumb, very American culture, college house-parties annually, hadn't been the one to invite Newt, although you never got invited to these sorts of things, you just sort of... showed up. So, with Teresa having convinced him through two (and a half) days of pleading, Newt had agreed to simply show up. Although, this time last year Newt had been the one to help Thomas plan it, in fact, Newt had been Thomas's boyfriend at the time. They had ended on iffy terms, Newt had never really confronted the situation, and they hadn't spoken much other than the one or two times since they broke up almost eleven months ago. 

Nonetheless Newt felt awkward and out of place. He didn't feel unfamiliar, he'd spent hours in Thomas's home, in Thomas's room even. He'd traced every corner with the tip of his finger, every room and hall engraved into his brain from the countless days he spent wandering with Thomas, even before they dated they had spent time here together in this house. So, it was definitely weird to see all these new faces, but it wasn't uncommon for Thomas to pick up a dump-load of friends and then drop them, which Newt had sadly learnt the hard way.

His train of thoughts was interrupted by an obviously tipsy Teresa - who, as he mentioned before, was the reason he was even here - leaning on the wall next to him. A red cup clasped in her hand, her eyes trained on his. Her pale skin was illuminated by the red shine from the lights in the room, Newt's brows raised as he made it clear he couldn't hear what she was saying over the pounding of the music in his head. She grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him that extra few inches over to her, hesitating for a second, as if she'd seen something... off. 

"Teresa?" Newt chimed.

"Hm? Oh, right. You see her?" The brunette pointed to a girl, tanned skin, rosy cheeks, chocolate-coloured hair that was cut right above her shoulders, brown eyes. Newt looked back to Teresa, who was giving this mysterious girl terrible heart-eyes. She took a sip from her drink, looking back up to Newt.

"Well, go say hello?" Newt figured it was more of a question, because he knew well enough Teresa wouldn't just tell him about this girl, be told a solution and leave it there, he knew all too well. 

"No, shut up, just wait." They both examined the girl, her foot tapping to the music, once turning around - which had caused Teresa to grab Newt by the arm and spin them both around as she whispered, she waited for a moment, glancing behind her before slowly turning back around. Newt couldn't help but laugh, he'd never seen someone so smitten - except for himself that is. She nudged him, causing him to look back up at the girl, an arm sliding across her waist, her earrings jingling as she whipped her head around to turn to the culprit, a wide smile spreading across her face. Newt let his eyes travel to the couple, squinting a little, and then getting a look at the guy. Olive skin, face and arms dotted with freckles, brown eyes. Those eyes. Newt's heart stopped, of course he had been expecting this - the inevitability of it almost uncanny. Teresa gripped his arm, sympathy laced in her gaze as she spoke once more.

"D'you think she's straight?" Teresa whispered, earning a chuckle from Newt.

"God, no. Bisexual, maybe." He laughed, hoping it would cover the crack in his voice. His gaze hadn't left Thomas, who's kisses trailed the girl's cheek and jaw. Finding himself longing, wishing he was back in that position. Despite his reluctance, he found himself thinking back to Thomas. Who had adored him, who had showered him in kisses, who had loved every inch of Newt, every imperfection, blemish, bruise and eyebags in all their glory. Thomas, who had made Newt feel whole for the first time, sitting on the side of the room, entangled in another girl's arms. Truthfully, he was never Newt's to lose. The girl was laughing, her smile filled with that love. Thomas seemed to have that effect on people, since Newt had laughed like that. Like the warmth was slowly eating him whole, like love was the only emotion he'd ever felt, like Thomas was the only person he'd ever love, like being without Thomas was slowly draining him. That Thomas was the only person who had given him that light, that passion, the same feeling of being smitten, the same look of love, getting lost in Thomas's eyes had never felt old.

"What gives it away?" Teresa asked.

Newt paused for a second. "Don't know."

He heard her give a soft laugh, eventually tugging on his hand. But he didn't register, his eyes were back on Thomas. Thomas's eyes were back on his. They were staring, the tension between their gazes thickening by the second. 

"Makes sense." 

Newt's eyes darted to the floor, Minho, Aris, Alby and Harriet leaving a pause on their pool game to exit the PoOl-Room and say hello to everyone, including Teresa and Newt. At Harriet's side was Sonya, who was obviously delighted to see Newt. But he could only focus on one thing, Thomas and the girl. It made Newt's heart ache, seeing them so.. happy? How easy had it been for Thomas to move on? The next hour was a blur, of course he insisted he didn't drink, but eventually didn't decline the offer when Minho asked for the fourth time if he was sure he really didn't want one. So, there he sat on the couch, hands wrapped around a plastic red cup, wondering how he had let Teresa drag him along to this place, where every corner it felt like memories hung from a splitting thread, right there to fall into his hands, but at the perfect moment were tugged away. Teasing him. He slightly registered people sitting on the same couch, not bothering to talk to him. It felt wrong to be here, in this crowd, it felt consuming. All of this, acing normal, acting like he was healing, acting like he was moving on. Because he wasn't. In the last year, he hadn't spent a day where Thomas didn't cross his mind. Where he reached out for the familiar feel of Thomas laying next to him, but found nothing. Nothing but a cold bed and pacing thoughts for a nearly a year. And it was Hell. He barely realised he was standing up, but he was already walking out and eventually leaning by the door. Newt's eyes were trained on a girl who was throwing up her guts in a bush, two people to his left flirting at the tree by the fence. 

Click. Click-click.

He was lighting a cigarette, pulling it out of his mouth and letting out a puff of smoke. He wasn't a heavy smoker, but regular enough to carry a pack with him wherever he went. He bounced the cigarette between his fingers, pursing his lips together, the hair on his neck spiking up when he felt someone plop themselves next to him, their back against the wall.

"Hey."

The voice slurred, Newt turning to face the person. Looking directly into those eyes of his, brown. He had always assured Thomas he loved his eyes, he would go on rants about they were like reflective, of emotions. Of how those eyes of his were the reason Newt knew to trust him, those eyes were what reassured him that he was home. But looking right into them now felt misplaced. As if Thomas was the center missing puzzle piece, one of thousands of little others that were crammed into a box under someone's stairs, maybe in an attic, maybe in an antique store. Whatever it was, Thomas was the answer. But Newt had let him go, and knew that nothing or nobody he could ever experience now was in comparison to Thomas. Everything leads back to Thomas.

"Hi..?"

"You like the party?"

Newt drew from his cigarette once more. 

"Why are you talking to me?" It was more of a statement than a question. More pleading, not so much for an explanation or an answer, but for Thomas to reach out and realise. To realise what Newt was thinking, how he had done all those months back.

"'Cause." The boy paused. "You're.. fun."

"I don't recall fun being the word I'd use to describe my last memories I have of you." 

"Can I get a cigarette?"

Newt hadn't noticed his eyes keeping focus on the plush grass, hopefully to avoid the inevitability of Thomas seeing right through him. To avoid the realization that Thomas would never love him again, at least in that way. 

"Sure."

He turned, handing a cigarette to Thomas, who popped it in his mouth and gestured for Newt to light it. Newt did. Turning back around and avoiding eye-contact.

"People tell me things about you, Newt." Thomas let out a puff of smoke, coughing.

"Like what?" Newt took a shaky breath.

Like I still love you?

"Like, your major's going well, that you've changed a lot. Distant, or whatever."

"Oh, distant?"

Thomas nodded, letting out a little 'mhm' sound.

"Do you regret it at all, Tommy?" He knew that question and the urgency ought to bring on whats and hows and whos and whys, but he didn't care.

"It's been eleven months, Newt."

"Great, so you would've had time to think. Do you regret it? Do you regret us?" Newt swallowed hard, thinking how he could be so sure asking Thomas a question he couldn't even bring himself to answer. He bit back the urge to cry and yell, his head flooding with the numbness of it all. Sitting on the beach, cuddling, running his hand through Thomas's hair, kissing each and every one of Thomas's freckles, claiming they were all tiny constellations that deserved a love of their own, fighting the urge to reach out. To touch, laugh, smile, kiss, hold. He'd give anything for that, he'd give anything for Thomas.

"No. I don't regret it, I'd do it all over again." Thomas's voice strained, bringing the cigarette to his lips and blowing out smoke. His foot tapping on the ground.

"So why don't you?"

"So why don't I what?"

Newt looked to Thomas, eyes flickering around the boy's face. Feeling as if he were on the brim of tears, maybe it was the smoke, maybe it was the tension in the conversation, maybe it was the drunkenness, maybe it was the delight of talking to Thomas. The familiarity of his arm against Thomas's, the warmth. From human to human. The words slipped off of his tongue, almost naturally. Almost as if all the stars had aligned themselves, as if every moment were building up to these few risky words. He knew the question was selfish, he knew Thomas deserved to be happy, he knew why they hadn't worked out, but he figured it couldn't hurt. Not to ask, at least.

"So why don't you do it it all over again?"


End file.
